


Look, Look

by compo67



Category: CW Network RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Abandonment, Alternate Universe - Not Human, Angst, Animal Death, Animal Traits, Character Death, Depressed Jared, M/M, Ownership, Sad Ending, puppy Jared
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-11
Updated: 2014-03-11
Packaged: 2018-01-15 09:49:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1300561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/compo67/pseuds/compo67
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared is a dog who belongs to his boy, the best boy ever. But what happens when a stranger enters his boy's life and boxes appear in his boy's room?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Look, Look

**Author's Note:**

> MAJOR WARNING: this is a fic with major character death. Pleeeeease don't read this if you're having a bad day. This is sad. This is depressing. I've made myself cry three times writing this.
> 
> My first attempt at writing something with sub-human species/human pets. Hopefully it's clear that Jared is human but also a dog/pet. Idk how else to explain it. ;-;
> 
> Ugh... my heart... /sniffs/ This was supposed to have a happy ending and then I totally ruined it. 
> 
> I need a hug. Why do I write sad things?

Jared’s boy is the best boy.

Even though it’s raining and his boy didn’t want to go out at first, they are still out for a quick run. Jared loves running. He could run all day in the backyard if his family would let him. There are so many things to see—outside is always exciting. His boy has him zipped up with a hood on because of the rain but that doesn’t stop Jared from enjoying the outside; all the smells and textures are different when wet. Earthworms and snails are out, though his boy tells him once to steer clear of stepping on them and Jared listens. Still, he can’t help but be amused by the appearance of such things.

Since it’s the middle of the day, their street is quiet. The occasional car passes them on their run but they are familiar sightings and Jared doesn’t pause to look after them. They’ve spent their entire lives on this street. Summer after summer, Jared watched his boy grow up. Now, his boy’s eyes crinkle whenever he lets out a laugh—one of the best sounds in the world. His boy received Jared as a Christmas present when they were both small and have been inseparable ever since. The cat down the street is fond of saying that she’s never seen a boy so loyal to a pet. She thinks Jared’s boy is foolish to be so dedicated to a pet; Jared thinks she’s just touchy because her owner had someone move in with them that doesn’t like cats.

Nearly halfway through their usual route, his boy stops suddenly. Jared skids to a stop. His boy says something about it being time to go back. Go back? But…

“C’mon,” his boy says, motioning towards home. “Jay, c’mon.”

Jared whines and looks in the opposite direction. They haven’t even passed Jared’s favorite tree. Another command, this time firmer, is given and Jared reluctantly joins his boy in the job back home. In all these years his boy has never cut short one of their runs. While Jared understands that the rain may not be optimal, it’s just starting to let up. There will be interestingly shaped puddles to look at soon enough and they’re going to miss them all.

Near home, his boy’s body language tenses up, therefore, Jared’s does also. Something is wrong.

A car that Jared has never seen before is in the driveway. It is big and unlike the simple truck his boy owns, a truck that Jared loves to ride in the passenger seat with his head out the window. One of the shiny black doors opens and a stranger steps out. But this isn’t a complete stranger. Jared recognizes the stranger’s scent, although it’s faint.

“Hey!” his boy calls out, sounding happy. “Sorry, let me just put Jared in and we can go.”

“You’re always late, Jensen. I’ve been waiting here ten minutes.” The stranger’s voice is not happy. Who wouldn’t be happy speaking to his boy? Jared pulls back when his boy tugs on his collar to lead him into the house. No. He doesn’t want to leave his boy with this stranger. Something is not right.

His boy tugs a little too harshly on Jared’s collar; Jared yips. “Jay! What is the matter with you today?” Speaking to Jared, his boy does not sound happy. “I’m sorry, but Jay needed a walk. He’s been difficult today, dunno what it is. C’mon Jay, in the house. Go on. Go take a nap by the heater. Go on, get.” A pat to Jared’s flank is followed by the garage door opening. Jared’s favorite spot to nap is right near the heater in front of the window; that way Jared can stay warm and look out onto the street at the same time.

“It’s a _dog_ ,” the stranger snaps. “Not a baby. Put it in and let’s _go_. You’ve made us late now and you know how my parents are.”

His boy doesn’t stay to see Jared go inside the house. He shuts the garage and runs off to the stranger’s car. Jared sits in the garage for hours.

 

His boy has always been active. Jared can remember many fields—soccer, lacrosse, and football—and at least three different pools. But his favorite activity of his boy’s is running because then he can participate. Together they’ve run countless miles. On good days they’ve run out to the farm land a few miles away from their street. His boy and his family know the farmer there, so they’re free to run through long stretches of land with tall grass that separates into a clearing with a pond. Jared has found frogs and dragonflies and fish. Every time they run out there he tries to catch a rabbit but has yet to succeed. One day he’ll bring one back for his boy.

At least, that’s what he tells himself from his spot near the heater by the front window.

Nose pressed against the cool glass, Jared huffs. It’s been at least fourteen mailman visits since his boy first went off with the stranger. In all that time his boy has been home but only for a few hours at a time. He’ll fill Jared’s bowl with kibble and refill his water dish but today he forgot; he ran out of the house so fast—back into that black car—Jared couldn’t get his attention. He dropped the tennis ball he’d been holding, hoping for a toss, and curled up near the window. Now, hours later, Jared is bored and restless. He hasn’t been let out since that rainy day. His boy’s father has been changing Jared’s training pads but it’s not the same as going outside and Jared knows it bothers the older man. Jared tries peeing in places other than his pad so he doesn’t make too much mess in one spot. Today he peed under his boy’s bed. He crawled under and peed on the hardwood floor, sighing in relief, tired of holding it in.

Birds flying out of the tree in the yard disrupts Jared’s thoughts. He wakes up and barks at them—shoo! Get away from this house! The birds flit towards a tree near his boy’s room, so Jared leaves the living room, running down the hallway. He presses his nose against the window in his boy’s room and barks as loud as he can, warning those birds. Hmph. Serves them right. They should go perch themselves in front of the cat’s tree across the way. She’d love their company.

Just as Jared is about to head back to his spot, he sniffs and smells something more potent than his boy’s scent or his. It’s the stranger’s smell and it’s grown more noticeable. Jared scrunches his nose and snorts. What an unpleasant smell. How can his boy possibly put up with that?

Returning to his spot, Jared’s stomach growls. He could root through the garbage like he did once when he was a pup, but he still remembers the time out he was given in his crate afterwards and would rather avoid that. But what else is there to eat? Once more he leaves his spot. Didn’t he hide a treat somewhere? His boy’s mother gave him one the other night, where could it be? Searching for it under a pile of clothes, Jared finds something else. He sniffs at the wrappers and licks at them. They’re round and smell really good but he’s not familiar with them. A few more licks and the wrappers unfold, revealing pretty things that look like polished stones. He eats them, enjoying the taste, and feels a little better. For the rest of the day, he keeps tabs on those birds, eventually falling asleep.

 

Hours later, Jared is sick.

He hates throwing up. It makes a mess and he knows his boy doesn’t like picking it up. There is a small attempt at hiding it by throwing up in a shoe but Jared can’t stop. His stomach feels like it’s going to turn over on itself. Whining, he tries to bark but that’s painful. No one’s home yet and he’s too tired to crawl from his boy’s room back to his spot. He knows the birds are out there but they’ll have to wait for their lesson; he can’t stand up.

The first person to get home is his boy’s mother. She drops her things when she sees Jared and starts shouting. It hurts his ears. Why is breathing difficult? Why is she so blurry? Kicking off the shoes Jared secretly likes to chew on, she comes over to him and tries to pick him up. She hasn’t been able to pick him up since he was a pup. But when she leaves, he whines and tries to get up for her. Stumbling over to where she is in the hallway, he starts to throw up again. Maybe he shouldn’t have eaten those things. But they were so tasty.

“Alan, the dog is sick… no I don’t know what’s wrong, he keeps throwing up! Jen isn’t here, what do I do?! Oh my god, poor thing. Jared, baby, don’t move! Alan, please!”

Before Jared can completely understand where he’s going, he’s in the car with his boy’s mother and father. She drives a lot faster than usual. But where could they be going? It’s difficult for him to keep his head up, so he can’t look out the window. He loves car rides. He loves it when his boy takes him for one. He loves his boy…

Before the stranger’s scent ever appeared in their lives, which Jared sees as two farm runs ago, his boy had been playing with him on the bed. Jared usually sleeps on a bed on the floor, right next to his boy’s. This time, his boy pulled him up and rubbed his middle until Jared was yipping and barking with glee. He turned to lick his boy’s face when their noses bumped and Jared missed. Their lips touched. Jared had been given kisses before but this one was different. His boy didn’t pull back and ruffle his hair right after. Instead, his boy pushed forward, with his hands threading through Jared’s hair. Warm and slick, that’s how his boy’s lips felt. Jared could hardly process everything but he knew it felt good. For once he wished he could purr so his boy would know what he felt. It took a few minutes but their lips pressed together became more natural and Jared understood what to do, how to move his mouth. He let out a small noise when his boy’s tongue slipped into his mouth.

It’s these thoughts that Jared focuses on as his boy’s father lifts him up and takes him out of the car. Are they at a park? Jared’s favorite park with the sandbox? He’s sorry he left so much mess around the house but if they let him run around the park for just a little while they won’t have to worry about him for a while. But a few sniffs of air and a quick look around show that they aren’t at a park. No. This is a bad building. This is the building with strangers that smell like chemicals and who wear plastic gloves. This is the bad place where he gets pinches with long things and people hold him down. No, he doesn’t want to be here. He moves backwards, towards the car, away from the doors.

“Easy boy, easy,” his boy’s father says, pushing Jared forward. “Donna, get the door. C’mon boy, yes, here we go. Be a good boy now. Jared, Jared!” Eventually, Jared isn’t able to get back to the car. His stomach hurts, his heart is racing, and his boy isn’t anywhere near. Time lurches forward once more and he’s on a cold table, with one of the strangers in gloves holding his hand and sticking something long and sharp into it. He whines and the stranger pets his head, which he leans into but can’t figure out why.

“The sedative will kick in any minute now.” Their voice is foreign to his ears but he smells his boy’s parents near. They smell like home. They smell like his boy. “We’re going to pump some heart meds to reduce his heart rate and blood pressure. The good thing is that he seems to have expelled all the chocolate from his system on his own. A few antacids, some observation, and lots of fluids and rest should be the extent of it. But he’s such a good boy, aren’t you? Yes, there we go, go to sleep. We’ll keep him overnight for observation and you can pick him up first thing tomorrow. We’ll call if there are any complications.” The stranger’s hands move around to odd things around Jared and the world around him is getting dark. It’s not night time. He doesn’t want to fall asleep here. Hands pet his head but he’s not sure whose hands they are—he just knows that they aren’t his boy’s.

When Jared wakes up again after yet another chunk of time is missing, he’s not on the table and he can’t smell anything familiar to him. He sits up but regrets it, overcome with nausea and fatigue. A few minutes pass before he realizes he’s in a cage.

What does this mean? Why is he here? Didn’t his people want him anymore? Are they going to get a new dog?

A blanket in the cage provides little comfort. His cries go unanswered.

 

After a night of very little sleep, his boy’s father drives Jared back home. Even though Jared is exhausted and nervous, he yips happily when he sees their house. Let out of the car, Jared bounds into the garage, up the stairs, and down the hallway to his boy’s room.

He is going to see his boy. His boy is going to be at his desk, studying or reading, chewing on his bottom lip in concentration. His boy is going to be there, long legs stretched out. His boy is going to be there smelling like peppermint and laundry. And Jared is going to get so many hugs and pets and maybe even a few of those special kisses because Jared has been away and his boy must have missed him terribly. But it’s all going to be okay. Jared knows now that he can’t eat those round things in wrappers. He’ll never eat them again!

Jared nearly trips over himself, he’s so happy.

He rounds the corner and skids into his boy’s room.

It’s empty.

 

Seven mailman visits later and Jared is curled up in bed when boxes appear in his boy’s room.

Their reunion was a happy one, when it finally happened one sunset and sunrise after Jared was brought back home, but his boy has barely been home. His boy either takes his truck or leaves in the stranger’s black one and often doesn’t return for the night. Jared waits—every single time—by the window near his spot. The birds don’t come by anymore but Jared keeps a watchful eye. He barks loudly when the boy comes home and tries his best to get his boy’s attention. Look, look! Jared didn’t chew on his boy’s mother’s shoe today. Look, look! He found the stuffed toy he hid a long time ago. Look, look… Most days his boy pats his head and walks right past him.

Then the boxes come in. They take up a lot of space. Jared sniffs each and every one. Curious. They smell odd. What is his boy doing with them? Does he want Jared to sit in one? Because he can. Jared paws at one and tips it over; he likes boxes, he decides. They aren’t like cages and he feels like this is a game. Yes, this must be a game. The better he can hide, the more he will win. His boy has placed things inside a few other boxes so he must expect Jared inside one of these as well. He tries his best to stay still and quiet but he’s so excited. His boy is playing a game with him again, how lucky!

It doesn’t matter to Jared that he waits for a long time. He peeks out once and sees that the sun in the sky is lower now, almost a sun set, but that’s okay. He’s had time to practice hiding.

When the garage door opens, Jared barks once but immediately hushes himself. Quiet! He’s got to stay quiet so he can win and make his boy happy. He hears his boy’s familiar steps up the stairs and down the hallway. But he also hears other footsteps, ones he doesn’t know. Keeping himself inside the box, he smells the stranger; his urge to win the game outweighs his need to bark at this stranger. If his boy has let him in the house, barking won’t help. And Jared can still win the game. His boy and the stranger are in the room and haven’t found Jared yet. Oh, he’s just that good at hiding.

“My parents won’t be home for an hour.” The sound of his boy’s voice is comforting. “I can’t believe you want to do this.”

The stranger’s voice is irritating. “I just want you to fuck me on your childhood bed. Is that so wrong?”

It’s been so long since Jared has heard his boy laugh. He does so now. “You’re so weird. Oh, shit…” There are sounds of the bed creaking, as it does whenever more than just his boy is on it. Jared knows. But he doesn’t know why it’s creaking so much. He hears his boy make a noise that sounds like pain. Jared waits a moment; he’s heard those noises from his boy but they were typically at night and alone. He never completely understood what those noises meant but his boy never seemed to be hurting.

“Why are you… you don’t need a condom.”

“I’m not fucking you without one.” His boy’s voice is low but similar to how he speaks commands to Jared. “We talked about this.”

“For a hick, you’re really fucking fussy.”

“And for a city slicker, you’re really fucking stupid. It’s condom on or nothing. I’ll let you ride me.”

A few minutes later, after more creaking and the sounds of clothes falling on the floor, Jared hears something rip open. He peeks out from the box because usually, ripping sounds mean the treat bag is being opened. But that’s not what’s happening. His boy is laying flat on his back, with the stranger on top of him, and the bed is moving at an alarming rate, causing the headboard to pound against the wall. When his boy lets out a noise that pains Jared’s ears to hear, Jared scrambles out of the box and begins barking near the stranger’s ankles as a warning. Get off his boy or else.

“What the…”

“Fuck!”

“Jensen, your fucking dog! Shut up!”

“God… get off me… Jared, Jared, shush!” The stranger gets off of his boy but Jared doesn’t like him. He doesn’t like his scent and he doesn’t like the tone in his voice when he speaks to his boy.

“Was your dog watching this entire time? What a fucking creeper dog.”

His boy reaches out and grabs Jared’s collar. The stranger moves on the bed, causing his boy to move back, tugging at Jared’s collar. Jared yips. A spank on his flank and two commands to get out of the room sends Jared out into the living room.

It’s not even all of that that upsets Jared. It’s what his boy calls him.

“Bad dog.”

 

His boy’s mother starts taking Jared for walks. It’s not the same but Jared does enjoy being outside. She lets him run around a neighbor’s lawn while she speaks with them. The cat from down the block walks by, out for a romp while her owners are out. Jared takes the opportunity to ask her what these boxes mean.

“Either way they mean bad things,” she sniffs, licking her paws. “When my people brought them, that meant my lady was moving _him_ in.” Her tone is bitter and resentful, as Jared expected it to be. “But I know where your boy is going.” Of course the smile she gives as she says that is dangerous.

“Going?” Jared asks. “No. He’d never go. He must be having someone move in.” Although the thought of that stranger moving in disgusts Jared, that is much better than the alternative.

The cat laughs and bats at Jared’s face. “Stupid dog. Is he putting stuff in the boxes or taking things out?”

Jared sniffs. “In.”

Her laughter stays with him long after their conversation.

“Then he’s moving _out_.”

 

His boy’s father lets Jared out one night, just into the backyard. Jared runs around and barks at some squirrels and checks on the treats he’s hidden. Busy with these things, he doesn’t notice time go by until the sun has set and it’s starting to get cold. Crying, he scrapes at the screen door. When no one comes back to let him in, he begins to panic. What if something has happened to his family? What if they need him? He hears a car and his boy’s truck in the driveway. He hears his boy’s parents outside with them. Everyone is gathered there except for Jared.

Barking, Jared tries to get noticed. He jumps near the fence but it’s always been too high for him to get over. There’s a patch of dirt that he might be able to dig through if it’s soft enough. He gets onto his knees and starts, digging faster when he hears the car leave.

Many boxes were closed and taken out of his boy’s room. When Jared tried putting his bed into a box, his boy sighed and took it out. Faster than Jared thought, his boy’s room was left empty—except for Jared’s bed. Even the desk, bookcases, and bed were taken. Jared had never seen it this way before. That was two sunsets ago. Jared begins to understand what is happening.

But why can’t he go with?

He wouldn’t take up much space and he would try not to pee in anyone’s clothes or chew on their shoes. Every bad thing he did as a pup and now he would never, ever do again. He swears. Just, look! Look at how good he is! Look, look! He’s kept the birds away from the lawn for all these years. He’s jumped on his boy’s bed every Christmas morning to wake him up. Look, look! He’s licked his boy’s tears away whenever he came home from school sad and lonely. Look, look! It was Jared who bounced around outside, cheering his boy on when he learned how to ride a bicycle. Look, look! It was Jared there every morning on the field while his boy practiced whatever sport he was playing for the season. Look, look! Jared was the first to be given a ride in the truck as soon as his boy learned how. Look, look! He was the one who started barking at night, when he heard a strange noise outside, and woke everyone up to see a bad person trying to get into his boy’s truck. Look, look! He was the one who would lie in his boy’s lap, keeping him warm, keeping him company, providing him with something soft to pet and hold.

Look, look. Jared’s chest is heaving with sobs.

His heart is breaking.

Look, look.

His boy has left.

 

Jared stops counting sunrises and sunsets.

He stops eating.

He stops waiting.

 

Another visit to the bad place and Jared doesn’t care. Gloved hands are all over him, touching his face, his belly, his rump. He doesn’t fight anyone; he closes his eyes and rests his head on the cold sleek table.

“He’s severely underweight and dehydrated.”

“Our son left for college… he hasn’t… he hasn’t been the same.”

“Well, you might want to explain to your son that pets have feelings too. We can’t hear them but they do feel pain from separation. I can’t force Jared to eat and staying on an IV long-term is not a solution. I have seen this happen before and these pets die a slow and painful death.”

Jared spends the night in a cage again, a long stick in his arm attached to a bag hanging above him.

He lies down and doesn’t move.

 

The seasons change and it’s cold outside. Too cold for walks.

Jared gets sick but he manages to hide it for a long time, until one day, he doesn’t have the strength to get up and go to his training pad. Crying and whining, he waits as long as possible. When he can’t hold it in any more, he pees himself. That’s not even the worst part of it; the worst is that he doesn’t roll away from the mess.

 

Christmas decorations are put up. Jared has no desire to sniff at the ornament boxes or the tree. He doesn’t care when a ham is baking and cares even less about cookies being made. People visit and he’s placed in the empty room, left alone with his damp, filthy bed that he growls if anyone tries to take it away from him. Usually he enjoys seeing all the little ones that visit; he has always enjoyed their pets and attention and tummy rubs. He hears them now—all of them a little older now—and wonders how many of them have pets of their own. How many of them are just waiting to leave their beloved companions behind. Bitterness comes easy.

 

“Grandpa, your doggie is sad and smells funny.”

“Leave him be, sweetheart. Go get some cookies.”

“Make the doggie do something, papa!”

“Listen to your grandpa and leave that dog alone. Dad, the dog stinks. The hell is wrong?”

“Doggie! Doggie!” Jared’s hair is pulled. He was dragged outside for dinner. The little one tugs on his ears and twists his tail. “Doggie!” A small foot kicks him in the stomach.

He doesn’t mean to snap at the little one and he certainly doesn’t bite them.

But it’s enough for Jared to be screamed at, his flank spanked sore, and carried outside. He isn’t left there.

He’s chained.

 

Jared finds himself in a cage in a place that’s worse than the bad place.

All the dogs there tell him he has seven days. Some of them laugh, others shake their heads.

No one wants a dog that bites.

And no one listens when he tries to tell them he didn’t bite anyone.

 

Six days pass. They can’t see the sun rise or the sun set and there is no mailman here, but they are fed regularly. That’s how the older dogs keep track of time. Jared watches some dogs leave with people that bring in shiny new collars. He’s happy for them.

He sees other dogs leave with strangers in gloves and masks. The entire building goes quiet when that happens. Jared understands that those dogs never come back—new ones are placed in their cages. He also knows that seven feedings will pass before he is one of those dogs.

Groups of people visit every day. That is his only way out.

But true enough, no one wants a biter.

Six feedings pass.

Everyone walks past his cage.

 

For the seventh feeding, Jared is given steak and bacon. He should be happy. He used to love bacon scraps from the table. If he did a trick or two, extra pieces would be tossed to him and he knew it would be a good day.

Nothing about this now is a good day.

He leaves the food in his bowl, untouched, and waits patiently for the strangers. A few of the dogs closer to him assure him—from what they have heard—that what is about to happen doesn’t hurt. He will never know pain again after this. They know of a place beyond these buildings and homes, something called a Rainbow Bridge. He’ll be there with his owner and there are plenty of fields to run through and treats are given all the time. No one will ever leave him. He won’t know sadness.

Jared’s cage is opened and gloved hands reach for him.

Look…

 

Jared walks down a hallway.

Doors to the outside open for him.

But why outside?

 

“Come here, boy!”

Pain and grief leave the chambers of his heart. Jared sighs. He blinks and looks around. He smells peppermint and laundry.

His boy is there.

Standing in front of a rainbow.


End file.
